


The Turnwood Chronicles

by Fireburst21



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Action, Alternate Reality, F/M, Suit & Tie, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireburst21/pseuds/Fireburst21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another boring party for Meg, full of fake small-talk and self-flattering, and she didn't want to be there anymore. That is until the arrival of a tall, familiar-looking man, that seems to call her attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A familiar face

A door electronically slides to the side, setting free hot vapor and light into the vast gloom. A man comes walking out, his barefoot steps muffled into the plushy carpet. One could barely see much more than the contours of his naked torso, and what seemed to be a white towel wrapped around his narrow hips.

He sails through the dim apartment towards what hinted to be a chrome fridge. As it opens, the internal lamp finally shines light into Ryan’s face, his piercing blues eyes selecting what he then grabs off, moving away for a few moments. That leaves the appliance for full view of its contents: it was filled top-to-bottom with Diet Coke cans, and only that. Seconds later, the plosion and the hiss of an opening can is heard, followed by the distinct sound of pouring, before he moves on his path.

 

As he continues walking, he moves parallel to his penthouse windows, where he had the beautiful and luxurious view of the entire night city bellow him. He had a square drinking glass in his hand, held from the top by the tip of his fingers, filled with the dark-tinted Diet Coke and some ice rocks. He passes by his wide, gray-colored couch, where his previously worn clothes were, thrown on there before the shower: a black and blue leather jacket, a grey t-shirt and some denim jeans, all of them filled with red stains, looking very much like _blood_. He grabs a controller on the small wooden desk, right beside a deflated, dark skull mask, and turns on the stereo, playing _Chopin_.

 

Suddenly, his steps start making audible thumping noises, at the same time as his body starts being lighten from below: he was now walking on a big pane of thick glass, overviewing some sort of squared space, a shaft or a room below him. He stops right there, in the middle of it, and looks down, a faint grin appearing in his semblance.

 

“Maybe I should go out tonight.” Ryan says, taking a deep breath and turning his eyes towards the windows, sipping at his drink one more time.

 

“I know, it’s been a while now. It’ll be good for me.” He responds, in a kind of cheeky tone.

 

With a couple claps, a long room illuminates itself. Impeccable white, it seemed like some sort of closet, containing wardrobes and mirrors and all kinds of drawers and shelfs. Haywood keeps walking until arriving at what seemed to be a showcase halfway through, with several mannequins wearing different outfits; one was the same outfit as the one seen on the couch; another contained a suit and a red kilt; one looked like a gnome, and another one that seemed like a Star Wars X-Wing pilot costume, among many others. As he scanned each and every outfit, he seemed discontent with all of them, the disapproving shake of his head reflected on the showcase glass.

 

After some time, however, he found the right thing: a bespoke, all dark, three-piece suit. He looked impeccably dapper, certainly seeming like he was “dressing to impress”, as they would say. While buttoning his sleeves, he browsed his watch and ring drawers, selecting in the last one his most precious item: A thick, golden ring in the shape of a crown, with a distinctive purposely-shaped crack in it, which he slips into his right hand ringer finger.

 

Descending into the garage by elevator, Ryan walks past his shady-looking wall collection of all sorts of melee weapons, getting directly in one of his several vehicles – the one in question being a black convertible BMW car, with a custom license plate written: “VAGABOND”.

 

As the garage door starts to pull up, the white shine of the headlights flare up as well. Quickly accelerating forward, soon Ryan disappears onto the streets, heading at a fast speed towards somewhere unknown…

 

***

 

“… And then I said, ‘Bro, do you even invest?’” A couple of laughs follows up the punchline.

 

It was a sumptuous party, filled with elegantly dressed people – socialites, the somewhat important, but mainly, _the rich_. On the other side of the hall, a female singer performed soft music on a piano, alongside a band.

 

Amidst all those people, a gracious young woman seemed to distinct herself from the rest. She had curled crimson hair that fell onto her shoulders, and deep, chestnut colored eyes, intensified by the dark smoke of her eyeshadow. Her rather curvaceous body was tightly fitted into a fashionable, lace-adorned dark dress, which emphasized her vibrant red hair and lipstick, highlighting her whole bust from the bosom up. She also had a genuine, wide bright smile; but that at that time, was faded away into oblivion – just as her gaze.

 

“Megan?” Calls one of the men who surrounded her, apparently the same one who made the “joke” earlier.

 

“YES!” She snaps out of her daydream, focusing one more time on the center of the circle of people there, recomposing herself. “… Uh, Yes?”

 

“Were you listening to my story?” He asks, looking briefly at the others.

 

“Oh. I’m so sorry! I… Got carried away by the music.” She replies, with an awkward laugh. “Please continue.”

 

“It’s alright, babe. You’re pretty, and I like you; I’ll let you hear it again later. Just focus on me.” The man says, smiling, followed by a small fit of condescending, polite laughter from the others.

 

She had found herself somehow in a circle with _those_ people, who seemed to boast and brag about over things she didn’t even thought were possible to brag about. They weren’t having a conversation, but actually just bouncing of each other’s egos, getting progressively worse as they drank. Turney honestly could not even remember why she was in there in the first place; to make matters worse, she couldn’t see any familiar face around, or recognize anyone in that entire party.

Smiling politely from time to time, Meg was just standing there for what seemed like ages – even though she was sure it was much less time than that. Her whole body pointed away from the group, as she looked at the entire party, seeking any sort of excuse among the crowd of strangers just to get her out of there. Even from about two feet away, she heard their voices like distant, annoying buzzing sounds, among the bigger buzz of all of the fake, patronizing small talk from the other groups of conversation around them, underlined by the faded downtempo music of the band.

 

She suddenly sees a waiter walking by among the crowd, not even close to their circle; but since the redhead was the only empty-handed person there, just picking at her own fingers the whole time, it was more than the perfect opportunity.

 

“Excuse me… I just got to… Yeahh.” Meg throws her last half-assed smile to the group of blue bloods before hastening off towards the servant, lifting her eyebrows and releasing a resounding sigh of relief.

 

She approaches the waiter and quickly grabs one of the drinks, as the alcohol would certainly help her a lot in the process of enduring the event; but at that point, all that Meg really wanted was to _go home_.

Turney looks around one more time, now searching for the nearest exit from that godawful party. When she finds the entrance, in the distance, and dreams of walking towards it, she suddenly notices someone arriving at that exact same moment: It was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with caramel backcombed hair and a well-defined beard, dressed in killer black.

 

She recognized the man; In fact, she knew exactly who he was.

 

A familiar face to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hi. This is my first fanfiction of... Anything, really, and also my first work written entirely in English, so I apologize if it seems somehow "weird-written", or anything like that. I really like the Meg Ryan/Turnwood/Turnhay ship, and thought it would be a good idea to use it to test my writting skills.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed it.


	2. Going in for the Kill

Meg had just laid eyes upon the recently arrived guest of the party, from across the large room. The entrance of the place was at a pair-of-stairs higher level than the ground floor, where everyone were, which is why she was able to see him there, above all, overviewing the party.

At that moment, as she noticed James Ryan Haywood just standing there, everything suddenly changed. All voices around the redhead seemed to lower; and the band, appearing as if somehow having noticed the situation, started another song right then. Meg’s body seems to shock her with life again, as she draws a long, profound breath in, fixing her posture; she stared intently at him, sliding down her eyes through his physique at the same time she slid her fingers through the handle of the drinking glass she held. Meg sees him walk down the stairs, moving across the socialites and statuesque adorned pillars straight towards the bar, to the side.

 

“One Diet Coke.” Orders the man, putting his elbows on the bar counter. He looks around while he waits, and after a few seconds, he hears a familiar voice reach him.

 

“Not going to fake your own death again this time, Mr. Haywood?”

 

Ryan sees Meg approach him by the right side, placing her hand, with her drink, over the bar counter in front of them, turning in his direction. He takes a moment, in surprise, to sight down at her: she looked absolutely stunning in that dress. She looked up back at him; her head slightly tilted and a wide, uncontained grin on her vivid red lips. He lets out a constrained, but unconscious smile when he finishes seeing her completely, also turning his body in response.

 

“Ms. Turney.” He answers. “… Turns out there’s not a lot you can do whilst being a dead man. So, occasionally I like to… You know, return back to the living.” He makes a slight pause, with a quizzical look on his face. “But only on special occasions, though, such as this one.”

 

“Interesting… Well, I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but…” She gets close to him for a moment, near the side of his head, and speaks in a hushed tone. “… _This occasion_? Not worth being alive for.”

 

“Really?” Ryan replies, finally receiving from the bartender his Diet Coke. He puts both his hands on it right before continuing. “… Well, it has _you_.”

 

They both stare at each other for about five seconds, the pop sound made by the Soda can breaking the brief silence and gaze between them.

 

“… So, surely it must have _something_ interesting in this place for you to be here.” He finishes.

 

“Well, you shouldn’t take my presence as a vote of confidence, Mr. Haywood.” She takes a very brief and polite sip of her drink.  “To be honest, I’m not even sure why I’m here...”

 

“I feel like we know each other well enough to the point where we can refer to ourselves by first names, no?” He interjects, wrinkling his eyebrows.

 

“Ohh…!” Meg reacts, throwing her hair back and resting her head against her hand, with the elbow on the counter. “ _Do we_? What’s my childhood nickname, then?”

 

“Uh….” Ryan makes a prolonged “unsure” noise, tilting his head while looking up. “Ok, look…”

 

Meg laughs right when he continues, resting her left hand on his arm.

 

“It’s alright, I was just _joshing_ with you, _Ryan_ …” She says, among laughs, caressing him for a moment.

 

“Oh, ok…” He takes another sip of his Diet Coke, relieved.

 

“… It’s Meggy Moo Moo, by the way; my childhood nickname. Just so you know.”

 

Ryan puts his soda can down, looking intently at Meg with his wide-open piercing blue eyes. He looked surprised.

 

“… What? What happened?” Meg looks around, confused.

 

“Meggy… _Moo Moo…_?” He asks, as a smile creeps into his semblance.

 

“ _Look_ , it was my nickname when I was a kid, ok? It’s not like… Anyone call me that these days or anything… Today is just Meg.” She tries to explain herself, gesticulating with both hands.

 

“No, no, no…” He responds, fully smiling now. “… I like it _a lot_ , actually.”

 

“Really? Ok then.” She replies through her wide grin. “And what was _your_ childhood nickname?”

 

“Ah, well… I didn’t have one.” He turns his head towards the bar counter.

 

“Really? No one gave you _any_ nickname whatsoever?” Meg looked somewhat perplexed.

 

“Nope.” Ryan says, sighing at the same time. “They just called me Ryan. That’s it.”

 

“Hmm. I feel like that should surprise me more than it did.” The redhead comments.

 

“So, you’re saying that you... Kinda already expected I wouldn’t have a childhood nickname?”

 

“I’m saying that I feel like I know you a lot, Ryan, even though I’m not sure.” She gazes at him. “I feel like every time I am in a place like this, and I cannot be more uncomfortable or stressed, and my only desire is to go home, _you_ appear, ready to scoop me up and save me. And here you are again, right when I was about to leave.”

 

The music gets more audible, as there is another moment of silent stare between the two, Meg smiling for a brief moment, right before continuing.

 

“… But you always disappear. You always vanish in the end, so I don’t really know for sure if those memories are any real. _Are you real_ , Ryan? If I touch you, will I _feel_ you?”

 

“Welp… I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He replies, with a lightness in his voice.

Ryan gets closer to her, with his hands behind his torso, looking down at Meg. She looks up at him, before looking straight at his torso. She lifts her hands, placing them carefully at his chest, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart.

 

“… So? Meg?” He asks, trying to hide a smile.

 

“...I, uh, don’t know yet, I think I need to feel it a bit more.” Meg responds quickly.

 

“Alright…” He looks around, standing still.

 

She continues to feel him for a while, slowly moving her hands around.

 

“… You told me you’re not sure if any of your memories are real.” Ryan looks back down at her. “I think mine are pretty real, because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be dressing as sharp as this without your help.”

 

Meg, about two inches away from his suit, analyzes it closely, her hands still on him.

 

“Well, I mean, _you do_ look like a _tourist dad_ sometimes, but I don’t think I had anything to do with all of this; this was all you, buddy – and by the way, _bravo_ \--”

 

“I wasn’t talking about the suit.” Ryan interposes, with a corner-of-the-mouth smile.

 

“Wha…?” Meg gets confused, looking him fully top-to-bottom, until she finds what he was referring to.

 

“Oh my god, _Ryan_!” Her voice came out high-pitched, as she looked back up at him surprised.

 

Ryan was wearing a pair of grey, Diet Coke branded converse shoes; a gift from Meg herself to him, given not so long ago.

 

“I… Did you wear them just to meet me here?” She asks, still high-pitched.

 

“I mean, I _hoped_ you would be here; but I wasn’t sure. I really just wear them because they’re the best shoes ever…!” He says, among a few brief laughs.

 

“Awww…!” She seemed completely endeared by the fact.

 

At that point, Meg's hands seemed to hold on to the peaked lapels of Ryan’s suit, as if she wanted to pull him even closer, but she disguised the fact with a few tries to “straighten” them. She was biting her lips, even though she wasn’t noticing it. They were gazing at each other one more time, both of them not even remembering about their drinks anymore.

 

“… You know, I’ve tried pretending my own death as well, Ryan. Disappear completely, from all of this… From you.” Meg says, with a soft voice.

 

“Yeah? And how did that go?” He asks back, already looking at her lips.

 

“Not very well.” She replies, with an even softer and lower voice. “… I guess I just can’t quit you.”

 

Ryan lowers himself; Meg pulls him in. Both of them closing the distance, both going in for the kill. She feels his lips touch hers…

… But only for about half a second.

 

“GET ON WITH THE SHOW!!”

 

The kiss gets interrupted by a loud yell that comes across the room, making them both look in that direction. They manage to catch the sight of a woman in black on the balcony of the second floor, with a veil covering her face, just before she walks away. The rest of the party seemed unbothered by what had just happened.

 

“… Ryan…!” Meg call his attention, alarmed by her sight when she turns in his direction.

 

“What…?”

 

Ryan hears the cock of a gun right behind his ear, feeling the muzzle against his head.

 

“We’ve got both of you now.” Says the unknown assailant, with a nefarious tone of voice…


	3. Ryan the knife guy

Ryan gets pushed towards some back corridor on the corner of the large ballroom, followed by Meg, who held tightly at the back of his suit with one hand. Both of them had their hands up.

 

“Keep moving, both of you.” Says the suited assailant behind them, holding both at gunpoint.

 

“Look, if you want money, I’m sure there are _a lot of richer_ _people_ than both of us back there--“ Ryan tries to excuse, looking behind his shoulders.

 

“Don’t play the fool with me, Mr. Haywood. C’mon, in the kitchen now!” The man swings lightly the gun towards the double swing door that led into the kitchen area of the luxurious place, restricted only to employees.

 

Meg and Ryan stare at each other for a moment. They reluctantly comply the armed man’s orders, walking through the kitchen door.

 

The three of them stop in the middle of the kitchen, between stoves, hanging utensils and tables full of ingredients, as no one seemed to be there besides the trio.

 

“Does the couple like the place? I hope you do, as it will be your last sight.” The assailant snickers creepily, adjusting the gun on his hand while he watches both of them turn around.

 

They finally look at the armed man face-to-face, seeing that he had thick, dark brown hair down to his neck, pale skin, very light stubble beard and blue eyes. Meg seemed to vaguely recognize his face, but she was not sure as to who he was.

 

“Look, you can solve whatever problem you have with me, but let it be between you and me alone. All I ask you is that you let the lady here walk free from all this.” Ryan offers, as he immediately notices Turney’s frown.

 

“What?! I’m not leaving you here with him, Ryan!”

 

“ _WE HAVE NO CHOICE_! HE’S GONNA **KILL** US! I’M TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM--”

 

“HE CAPTURED _BOTH OF US_ , RYAN! I’M NOT GOING TO JUST _STROLL_ OUT OF HERE WHILE YOU’RE LEFT TO _DIE_ \--”

 

Meg and Ryan start to argue with each other, as the assailant becomes visibly upset. He fires his gun between the two, surprising both of them and immediately forcing silence in the room.

 

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU! I’M GONNA KILL _BOTH OF YOU_!”

 

“Ryan…” Meg grips his left hand, getting close to him, but the tall man dressed in killer black quickly holds her neck with his other hand, coming down to right about her ear and whispering:

 

“ _It’s okay, I got this._ ”

 

Meg sees Ryan’s face go back up, with a serious, eerie look on it. He lets go of Meg and looks back at the mysterious gunner, seemingly undisturbed by the threat right in front of him now; on the contrary, he seemed to be trying to hold a smile.

 

“Y’all said your goodbyes to each other already? Well, time to die…!”

 

“You know…” Looking to the side, Ryan calmly grabs a kitchen knife off the counter right next to him, admiring it and it’s shine for a second.

 

“… The real secret to any knife – any bladed weapon, really, it’s their **weight balance**.” He comments, trying to balance the knife on his finger, at what point the assailant starts laughing.

 

 “ _Seriously_ , ‘Ryan’? You’re going to try and **stab** me? You never heard of the saying ‘never bring a knife to a gun fight’?”

 

“Yeah… But I’m so much faster than you, though!”

 

In one movement, Ryan throws the kitchen knife at the gunner, who takes a reaction shot back at him. The shot completely misses, as the armed man falls groaning, the knife stuck in his chest. Haywood rapidly moves in direction of the fallen man, crouching when he gets there.

 

“Shhhhhh… It’s okay. It’s okay. Let me just…” The scene gets covered by his own figure, and all that can be seen and heard is the synchronized strokes of Ryan’s arm and the repeated sound of knife puncturing flesh. When silence settles in, he gets up again, combing his caramel-colored hair back in place with his hand while breathing heavily – not from the physical exertion, but from the “high” of the kill, containing his wide grin when he remembers Meg was there with him.

 

“Meg…” He turns around, knife in one hand and the now deceased assailant’s gun on the other, locking his blue eyes onto her, just to realize that the young redhead held a 9mm handgun on her hands, pointed in his direction. Both parts look at each other for a couple of seconds, “registering” the situation.

 

“Uh… M-Meg…?” He utters reluctantly, frozen in place, eyes open wide.

 

Turney then puckers her brows, suddenly lifting up her gun to shoot. She puts three bullets into the man that comes running in through the kitchen swing door, dropping his weapon and falling right next to their first assailant. Ryan sees the whole thing, paying attention now to the door but at the same time seeming very surprised and confused by Meg.

 

“… Alright. T-Thanks, I guess…?” He trades looks back and forth between the entrance and her, then pointing at her weapon with the knife, still a little tense. “… Where did you get that _gun_?”

 

“Oh, It’s mine. I carry it with me. No joke, _I almost forgot about it_.” She replies, pointing the gun down again. “I was going to shoot the first guy there, but then you… Stabbed him to death.”

 

The silence creeps in, giving time for Ryan and Meg to trade looks one more time, and for them to look at the situation they somehow got in, as questions start to rise in the air.

 

“… Who were those men, Ryan? Why they were after you?” Looking down at the bodies, the redhead questioned.

 

“I have no clue; but either way, I feel like we should **not** stay just standing right here.” He walks towards the double swing kitchen door and peeks through it, gun and knife at ready.

 

Turney approaches the body of the first gunner, downed by Ryan. The knife wounds were slightly disturbing, but the crimson-haired woman seemed to ignore it, locking her chestnut-colored eyes at his face one more time. She analyzes every detail while trying to pull any information of her brain about that somehow familiar face. Little by little, almost letter by letter, a name appears on her mind.

 

“… _R-Risinger_?” She mutters, squinting.

 

“Look, we don’t have much time.” Ryan looks back at her, visibly impatient. “Gunshots are **loud**. Whoever they are, they know things are going down right now. We gotta go.”

 

Meg gazes back at him, listening to his words while she throws her curled hair back over her shoulder and gets up again, gun still at hand.

 

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

 

 

 

The couple walks out of the kitchen, going back through the way they came in. They walk cautiously through the hallway, weapons concealed, although they didn’t see anyone or heard the music anymore. They reach the corner of the corridor, from where Ryan peeks in at the ballroom, followed by Meg, where both of them see the place **completely empty** now.

 

They step up towards the center of the large area, looking around carefully, searching for any suspicious movement. A couple of steps behind Ryan, Meg looks up towards the balcony of the second floor, at which point she lets out a low-sounding gasp before shouting:

 

“RYAN, SECOND FLOOR!”

 

Haywood then looks up, noticing about half a dozen men wearing suits and masquerade masks jump from the second story to the floor, rolling on the ground and advancing towards the couple with all sort of melee weapons. Turney also notices more men appear on the mezzanine, these ones holding actual firearms like pistols and assault rifles.

 

Obviously outnumbered, Meg and Ryan had to think fast, as they had just gotten themselves in a very unfavorable situation now…


	4. Team Awesome Ninjas

Half a dozen men in suits and masquerade masks now stood in front of Ryan, as he and Meg seemed to had fallen on a trap. Having just jumped down from the balcony of the ballroom, the group of assailants now ran towards Haywood with murderous intent, while a whole other group of them seemed to be up there, shooting bullets at Meg.

 

“You _idiots_! You dare attack the **Mad King**?!” Ryan had both his arms open, walking towards the attackers and calling attention to himself. He swiftly dodges the swing of a baseball bat, following with two knife strikes that downs his first opponent, immediately extending his left arm forward and shooting another one, right before doing another knife throw against a third enemy, hitting him in the face. He quickly notices two other men trying to flank and attack him at same time, at which he reacts by moving back and putting another two bullets in one of them, dodging next from the swipe of a hatchet of the second thug, followed by two other failed attacks. The Mad King manages to stop the fourth blow, holding his opponent’s arm mid-swing and pistol-whipping him in the nose right before twisting the man’s arm in a lock that enabled Ryan to use him as a human shield from bullets, while he takes some time to look back and check on Meg behind him.

Meg sniped people from the balcony with her 9mm, gunning them down with precision and discipline, as if they were target practice. It was more and more apparent that she wasn’t just some sort of gun enthusiast, but perhaps someone with an actual military training and experience.

 

Turney notices two men approaching her with machetes in the air, ready to strike her. She points the gun at one of them but quickly sees she’s out of bullets. She puts torque in her hips and kicks forward, stopping the advance of one of them and cutting his attack short, dropping her pistol’s empty magazine and immediately rolling backwards, just barely dodging the other blade attack.

Ending the roll on one knee, Meg grabs her spare mag on her hidden leg holster and reloads her 9mm in impressive three seconds, putting an upwards follow of two bullets on the masked thug’s torso, one in the chest and one in the head.

 

However, as the man falls down in front of her and she has clear sight of the ballroom again, the redhead sees more masked men appear at the ground floor and the one above. About fifteen feet ahead of her, the Mad King spent his last bullets dropping about four more individuals, deciding then to disarm and finish his human shield, grabbing his hatchet and taking another kitchen knife out of his vest, ready to continue fighting.

 

“ _C’MON_!!” Yells the tall blue-eyed man, with drops of blood already spattered all over him, walking towards the group of enemies ahead.

 

Meanwhile, Meg had went back to exchanging bullets with the men on the entresol, but she knew that her gun would run out of bullets soon.

 

“ _Fuck!_ No more spare mags either. Looks like I’m gonna have to wing this…” She says to herself, seeing that if she stopped picking the guys at the balcony, Ryan and her would be sprayed with bullets in no time.

 

She aims up at the armed men on the second floor and waits for the right moment, hoping to do what she had done with a few of them before and hit one of them right as he leaned on the edge of the mezzanine. The plan goes well, and as one of the shooters gets hit, he drops his rifle down, almost falling himself.

 

“Shit, here we go…!” Already without her heels, Meg starts sprinting full speed across the ballroom towards the balcony region, getting shot at the whole way through. She dives in and grabs the assault rifle right before it hits the ground, now right under the second floor story. Laying on the ground, Turney then aims up, spraying bullets from underneath, hitting a couple people upstairs.

 

Meg and Ryan seemed two unstoppable forces together, taking down the “masquerade thugs” one by one – the first one shooting the rest of them with their own guns, while the second one took care of the rest up-and-close, or by skillfully throwing his weapons, never missing. Soon, they are the only ones left standing among a sea of bodies and incapacitated men.

The two quickly meet each other again in the center of the ballroom when they see the whole conflict was over, breathing heavy and seemingly very aware, as adrenaline still pumped through their veins.

 

“Are you ok?” Haywood looks down through the curvy redhead’s body to see if she had any wounds. Looking back at him, Turney could swear his eyes looked even brighter blue than before, but that could be the contrast with the blood on his face.

 

“Yeah. Just a few grazes.” She pauses, catching her breath and looking around for a second. “What about you?”

 

“Nah, I’m fine.” He looks at himself, seeing the blood spatter and the tears on his all-black suit, straightening it up.

 

Meg then quickly runs off towards one of the downed assailants, who seemed to groan and writhe on the floor. She holds him in place, removing his mask, seeing again someone who she seemed to faintly recognize. She pulls him closer by the lapels of his suit.

 

“Who are you? Why do you want to kill us?!” The buxom crimson-haired woman inquires, in an unfriendly manner.

 

“…S… Stunt… The… **Stunt** …” The man groans, incapable of focusing his gaze anywhere.

 

“ _Stunt_? What?” Meg looks confused, as Ryan appears beside her, putting his finger inside the man’s wound, causing him to squirm even more.

 

“Hey, _hey_! **Focus!** ” He says to the man, more violently.

 

“Who do you work for?” Turney goes back to asking. They can see the man trying to hold back, but he soon spills it out.

 

“M-Ma… **Mariel** …”

 

“ _Muriel_?” Meg seems to reflect on the name.

 

“No, I think he said _Mariel…_ ” Ryan comments.

 

“Did you say **Muriel**?” She pulls on the man’s suit lapels again.

 

“Nope, he said Mariel--”

 

“Mariel… **Mariel Salcedo** …” The assailant completes, seemingly giving up and closing his eyes, passing out.

 

Meg releases the man on the floor, getting up and putting her hands to her head.

 

“Shit, it’s her… Muriel… We’re in _very very_ deep trouble, then…”

 

“What? Who is this Mariel? You know her?” Ryan asks, filled now with suspicion.

 

“I…” Meg squints her eyes, apparently really trying to recall it. “…I worked with her, once. She is **very dangerous** , Ryan. She used to be a notorious criminal in Mexico; worked for the Cartels. They never arrested her.”

 

“And you _worked_ with her? I thought you said once you were a journalist.”

 

“Did I say that? I really don’t remember, Ryan. Ever since I hit my head, everything is just a mess…” She replies, looking down.

 

“Yeah, clearly you aren’t one, because no journalist I know of can do what you did to those men. That was the work of a **professional**. You also seemed to know that other guy, the one who led us to the kitchen.” He takes a slight pause, looking her in the eyes.

“Who are you, Meg Turney?”

 

“… You know, I think it’s funny you should ask that, James Ryan Haywood – you’re ‘Mr. Mystery man’ himself. You’re the apparently rich man who pretends he’s dead every weekend; the man that no one knows _nothing_ about… **Not even me.** ” She throws the ball back at him, crossing her arms, while he smiles, as to just about to try and explain something, but he remains silent. “I saw the way you dealt with those men as well. You’re _far far away_ from any average ‘Richie Rich’ kind of boy I ever knew too… I guess we both just don’t know each other that well, huh?”

 

There’s a moment of silence and awkwardness between the two, as they both seem to realize the truth in what she had just said. After some time thinking, Ryan shakes his head momentarily, finally looking back at the redhead.

 

“Ok, fine; You wanna know who I _really_ am? I’m not going to hide it from you.” He pauses again, jutting his chin and taking a deep breath, as to pull any kind of courage out from within. “I’m a **bad man** , who’s done **bad things**. Illegal things, things very much like the ones I did here. I run with a… ‘Crew’, and I still do those things – less than before, but I _still_ do them. And that’s how I get my fortune. I’m also notoriously known in the streets as ‘ **the Mad King** ’.” He then shows his ring, the cracked golden crown.

 

“That’s who I am. So if you wanna leave, I understand, and I suggest you do it quickly because they mig--”

 

“Now it’s my turn.” She interrupts him, ignoring what he had just said. “I’m a **secret agent.** _Agent D-0LL_ – or at least I think so. I have certain memories, little things I can remember, such as the woman we heard of, **Muriel** ; that guy, the one of the kitchen? I’m pretty sure he was an agent too. **Agent Risinger** , if I’m not mistaken.” Meg says, wrinkling her eyebrows.

 

“But… Since that incident where I hit my head… I’m not sure of anything anymore. Being an agent on top of that, where everything is kept secret and is riddled with codes… _Doesn’t help_.” She throws in a half-laugh, her smile fading. “At this point, I’m don’t even know if I’m still an agent anymore. Or if I really was one in the first place-- I don’t know, nothing really seems… _Real_ **. Except you, Ryan.** ”

“I don’t remember how we met, or what we were to each other; all I know is that, right after I hit my head, when I opened my eyes, _you_ were there, looking at me. I guess what I’m trying to say is: My mind is a mess, Ryan. **Right now, you’re the only person in this world I trust**.”

 

Both Meg and Ryan then trade gazes, finding comfort in each other’s eyes. Ryan puts one hand on her face, wasting no more time and closing in the distance, touching her lips with his lips. The shy, uncertain kiss soon evolves to a passionate one, as Turney grabs him by the suit and he grabs her by the hips, both joining their bodies together and eliminating any gap between them.

They pretty much forget about the world around them, almost falling to the ground as each one tried to bring each other even closer to their arms, finally giving in to the sweetness of their temptation. Due to the silence of the place, it was possible to hear the sound of several speeding vehicles coming to a stop just outside the ballroom, but the couple was still involved in the unending kiss.

 

“M-Meg… We gotta go.” Ryan says, his head trailing forward after hers for a second when they stop, still very close to each other.

 

“… I know.” She replies, looking upwards at his lips, trying to regain her breath.

 

They taking a step back from each other, looking around for the exits, where they could escape and where more armed men could appear.

 

“Ok, how do you got here?” Haywood asks, more serious now.

 

“I don’t remember.” The crimson-haired agent responds in an instant.

 

“… _Alright_. My car then.” The Mad King then gets ready to run. “Ladies first.”

 

“Right, go ahead – Nah, just kidding.” She says quickly, with a chuckle.

 

They both start running towards the exit, leaving behind the ballroom and the pile of bodies spread out across the floor. A few seconds after they disappear through some corridor, a large group of more “stuntmen”, wearing the same suits and masks, comes busting through all entrances, all armed to the teeth.

 

“¿Dónde están?” Someone shouts, while all of them look around carefully, ready to fire.

 

“ **¿Dónde están los dos?** ” The powerful voice repeats itself, now with a more authoritative tone.

 

One man walks off to the center of the place, alone, seeing all the bodies on the floor. He didn’t wear a mask, and wore what seemed to be a better suit than the rest, with shades of dark blue instead of the black-and-white combo. He was also more physically built, although a little shorter, having short dark brown hair and a full beard with a bushier goatee.

Looking around the whole ballroom, the same man, who seemed to be the leader, walks among a few bodies until he stops at a certain point, crouching down a grabbing what it seemed to be a pair of high heels, certainly unusual in a sea of dead _men_.

 

“They escaped.” The man comments, analyzing the shoes. “ **BACK TO THE SUV’S, RIGHT NOW!** ”

 

The large force of masquerade men soon complies, running back out of the place, while the bearded man drops the shoes, talking to himself before leaving as well.

 

“I will get them for you, babe, don’t worry. _I’ll get them_ …”


End file.
